


Rough Encounters

by Dominatrix



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: A little scratching and biting, F/M, How do I manage to put fluff in everything?, However fluffy in the end, Rough Sex, dominant!Joan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-17
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-16 12:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominatrix/pseuds/Dominatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Sherlock and Joan had rough sex, and one time they had not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Encounters

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Encuentros Bruscos](https://archiveofourown.org/works/565086) by [Judas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judas/pseuds/Judas)



> Yeah...I just had to. Don't know why, but it just happened. Got far too much time right now (should be studying, but too much fanfiction in my head for getting maths and chemistry in there, too).  
> Hope you enjoy it :)

1.

The first time Sherlock and Joan had sex, it was a rather usual evening. However, it ended differently this time. And it should affect both of them seriously.

Joan’s favourite baseball team had just lost their last game, and Sherlock had just ended a call with his father. Sherlock would call it a _totally normal family talk_ , others would maybe call it a _discussion_. Most people (including Joan and probably 90 percent of world’s population) would call _it two idiots screaming at each other until one of them slams the phone against the wall or gets hoarse_. They were both filled up with adrenaline and very irritated, so it didn’t need much of Sherlock’s usual insults, spiced up with a little of his arousal and anger, until Joan was squeezed against the wall by him, Sherlock’s body pressed against hers closely, his lips harsh and rough on hers, both of them groaning in pleasure and fury. Joan tugged and pulled at Sherlock’s t-shirt and dropped it on the floor without even recognizing that she had almost ripped it apart. Neither of them cared. They were still partly dressed when Sherlock and Joan started to get even closer and were all over each other in seconds after Joan had thrown her arms around Sherlock’s neck.

There was no time for any loving or comforting words, let alone any sort of romance, and it didn’t take them long to collapse in each other’s arms, breathing heavily, their eyes still flaming with passion and rage. They parted without another word and left in their bedrooms. They did not manage to talk to each other for days; it was all just too strange.

2.

It needed some time till they eventually managed to be in the same room, or even talk to each other. And it wasn’t always from Joan’s side. Sherlock seemed to be heavily embarrassed, too. Which was…very very unusual, because Sherlock was never ever embarrassed by anything or anyone. Their next case forced them to be in the same room, to talk to each other and to be held at gunpoint by a suspect of murder (well, in the end he was rather more than a suspect…pointing at two people with a gun, screaming and yelling that he would paint the walls with their brains did not really improve his status in the police detections). In the end, Sherlock insulted the man in a so loud and so annoying manner that the latter fired his gun at the ceiling to shut Sherlock up. About ten seconds later, he was lying flat on his stomach, Sherlock sitting on top of him, the gun in one of his slender hands. When they were back in the flat, Joan had asked how he knew that the suspect did not have any more shots left. Sherlock told her he had not been sure, he was just guessing.

At first, she started to yell at him, push him hard, and then she even slapped him in the face because she just couldn’t believe how Sherlock could have just risked both of their lives…and won. In the very end, she was nearly crying and screaming that they could both be dead now. He tried to pull her close to him, to hug her tight, but she pushed him off hardly before grabbing his shirt and pulling him down in a deep and greedy kiss. They scarcely had time to get in the bedroom; eventually they ended up on the living room floor (which, at least, had some kind of comfort). There was a lot of fighting about who got to have the top position; and they didn’t fight very loving. In the end, Joan won; she had lost all of her blouse’s buttons when Sherlock had tried to undress her (quite successfully) and she planned to make him pay for that.

There was a lot of biting and bickering and mumbling without a clear train of thought while they were moving quite ruggedly, both of them moaning – out of pleasure or pain, in the end, neither of them knew it. Sherlock’s fingernails had left deep marks on Joan’s back when he tried to pull her down and turn her on her back to gain dominance. He was not very successful and, resultant, not as satisfied as he could have been after they had both collapsed screaming and swearing.

3.

The third time did not really have a reason or a trigger. It – yes, this may sound dumb and clichéd – just happened without one of them knew how and why it happened. Sherlock had talked to Joan as he had always done it – passive aggressive, sarcastic and completely barefaced. It had been a talk over Joan’s love life and the men she dated and why she would not have sex with them…In the end, it was more Sherlock talking and Joan trying to distract him to get him off topic. Yes, she was frustrated, and desperate, and in a bad mood, and maybe also a little aroused by Sherlock waving his hands and by the way his voice trembled when he got too enthusiastic, when he lost himself in his thoughts and had no idea how to get back to the topic…She stretched out to pull him closer and seal his lips in a hungry and deep kiss.

There was no real line to be crossed or words to be said, but eventually they were both stripped down, gasping and snuggling, pressing against each other. Sherlock buried his hands in her hair and pulled hard; Joan nearly screamed out of pain when he arched her head back to place gentle bites and kisses on her neck. He kissed away the tears that were streaming down her face; she tasted salt on his lips when he came down on her again. Her back bent and her whole body stretched towards him when he pushed deep inside her. She had flung her legs around his hips, awaiting each of his thrusts shivering. He did not disappoint her, and by hearing her moan and mumble out of breath he smirked at her shortly before burying his face in her hair.

She hissed when she felt the sensation of curious teeth at her collar bone, the mark Sherlock left now would be visible for several days. She wanted him to regret insulting her, to regret to have met her and to regret this very moment. She could be very cruel when she wanted to be, and this night she was not very merciful. It was not possible for Sherlock to wear tight shirts the next days, the scratches on his back needed to heal first.

\+ 1.

Sherlock did not want her to enjoy this the way she had done it before. He clearly and absolutely wanted to make her suffer. The gaps between their…meetings had become much shorter, and the scratches on Sherlock’s back had just healed. The mark of a bite on Joan’s collarbone was still visible as a fading shadow on her skin. He kissed the bite mark gently before stroking her face. “Sherlock…” she started, but he knew what she wanted to say, and he was very sure that he did not want to hear it, so he leaned down on her and laid a kiss on her lips.

“Don’t” he replied mumbling, his breath against her face. _Don’t you dare to ruin this_ , he added in his thoughts. And he was not ready to let her ruin this, because this was probably one of the best nights Sherlock had ever had.

He had enjoyed their hard and fast rides, too, when they were constantly out of breath, panting with words that had no sense at all; moving against each other mercilessly and with a defined aim, reaching pleasure and peace only because of fast and – yeah, maybe also meaningless – somethings. But this time it was different. They had made it to Joan’s bedroom – he had guided her there because his was way too messy – with silent kisses and looks. Right now, there was not a single piece of fabric that could separate them from each other. There was no biting or scratching, no hints of anger or foaming passion, just the promise of safety in Joan’s eyes and a kind smile on her lips when her eyelids fluttered as he traced his way down her throat with his tongue, leaving wet trails his fingertips loved to follow while he felt her body smoothening in his arms. He held her close, burying his face in her hair, at her chest, listening to the rapid beat of her heart before kissing her again, recognizing the sweet taste of her lips and tongue while they were both smiling and laughing into the caress.

“This is so ridiculous” she muttered lowly, leading her fingertips over his chest and waist – and even lower - until he shivered and sighed quietly. “Somebody like you should never fondle me so much. You don’t seem to be the type for romance or candle light or something like that.”

“Maybe you changed me”, he replied slowly, almost hesitant. She chuckled - just to imagine this was impossible – until she looked at him again and saw truth in his eyes.

“Oh my god” she whispered when she recognized that he had not meant it as a joke. For a moment Sherlock was scared, scared of rejection and scared of losing Joan, but only until Joan smiled lightly and cupped his face with her hands before she placed a tender kiss on his slightly opened lips.

“Thank you.”

 

They liked to remember this night as their very first time.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Battles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/554386) by [Dominatrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominatrix/pseuds/Dominatrix)




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